


in loyalty, love endures

by jynladyofstardust



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Illnesses, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Reincarnation, Shrinkyclinks Fest 2020, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, magical plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynladyofstardust/pseuds/jynladyofstardust
Summary: As Steve's mother fades away from an unknown illness, he realizes there's only one chance to save her: a magical fruit which is rumored to grow at the top of the mountain that boarders his village.He's determined to get the fruit to save her, even if it means facing the monster that's supposed to be guarding it.But fate has something more in store for Steve.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 16
Kudos: 131
Collections: Shrinkyclinks Fest 2020





	in loyalty, love endures

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for prompt 58 (Steve absolutely needs a special medicinal flower/plant that only grows at the mouth of a cave that is rumored to be the home of a terrible monster. Bucky is that monster.) prompted by Chim, for the shinkyclinks prompt fest! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope they like it as well!
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta reader [Pineau_noir](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineau_noir) for looking this over for me! 
> 
> Oh, also this idea was thought of before the current situation happened, so Sarah and her illness was just a coincidence.
> 
> Additional warning: during the story Sarah tells Steve about his birth, there's a mention of her losing two other pregnancies before she has him. It's a one line mention, but I want to be safe, in case it will upset anyone.

“Once upon a time…”

“No,” Steve said, his little nose scrunched up in distaste. 

Sarah had to hide her smile, wanting to take him as seriously as possible but finding her son's disapproval of bedtime story choice amusing. “No?”

“No,” he said with a firm shake of his head. “I don’t want a fairytale. I want a _true_ story.”

Sarah pretended to think, knowing exactly which story he was talking about, but not wanting to make it too easy for her son. “Well, the other day I was tending to the garden—”

“Ma,” he whined, rather pathetically she felt, given he’d been sick for the past three days. Normally she wouldn’t allow this sort of behavior from her son, but given she hadn’t been sure if he’d even survive the night not a day ago, she was willing to overlook it.

“All right, all right,” she laughed. “Once, a long time ago,” she started, “there was a shining, golden god. He was championed as a protector of the people against the evils of the world.”

“Even other gods,” Steve interrupted, knowing the story by heart.

“Even other gods,” Sarah nodded in agreement. “Though he preferred not to fight unless it was strictly necessary.” Now that was an addition all her own, since her son had a habit of jumping into fights fist first in order to protect people, a habit she was desperately trying to dissuade him from.

“But, one day, some of the gods looked down on humanity and decided we weren’t worthy enough to worship him. So the golden god took up arms against them. The fight was fierce and long, even for gods. The golden god prevaled, and cast the evil gods down into the deepest depths of the earth, but at a price. He’d taken a fatal blow, one not even a god could recover from.

“The other gods mourned the passing of the golden god, and promised, in his honor, to keep and protect humanity as best as possible.”

“Do you think the gods miss the golden god?” 

Sarah smiled, and kissed her son on his forehead, relieved to find it cooler than it had been this morning. The fever had well and truly broken. “I think they do. Which is why we haven’t been visited by monsters since the evil god’s defeat.”

Steve nodded, eyes starting to drift shut. “Tell me another?”

“Another? You’re barely able to keep your eyes open,” She smiled. “Get some rest, Steve.”

“Please,” he looked up, pleading with eyes she was defenseless against.

“Hmm… what about the one about the magic fruit?”

Steve nodded, smiling. “I like that story.”

“Well, high up on the mountain near our village, at the mouth of a cave at the very top, grows a plant bearing a fruit. But this fruit is no ordinary fruit. This fruit will grant the person who eats it _any_ wish their heart desires, or heal _any_ illness.

“Many people have tried to climb the mountain. Most fail to reach the summit, giving up before reaching the top. But there are a few who have succeeded.”

“But they were met with a surprise,” Steve said, a smile playing on his lips.

“That’s right,” Sarah nodded. “For the plant was not left unguarded by the gods who placed it there. Now, none who have seen the guardian can agree on what it looks like, but all reports agree on this: it’s a creature, fierce in looks and nature. There are claims, from the few who have come back, that bones litter the mouth of the cave, those who’d tried to fight the beast for its prize unsuccessfully.”

Steve smiled, eyes truly drifting shut this time. Sarah gave a soft sigh of relief before standing to collect her tools, no longer needing them to tend to her healing son.

  


  


* * *

  


  


Steve shot awake, the knock on the door startling him to consciousness, the dream quickly fading from his mind. He rubbed at his eyes groggily, sighing in relief as he took a quick glance at his ailing mother to see she was still breathing before getting up to answer the door. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, meaning to keep an eye on her, make sure nothing happened before Helen arrived. She was his mother’s apprentice and the only one the village had as a reliable healer now that his mother was ill.

He was met with Helen’s kind smile and did his best to respond in kind, but he knew she wasn’t fooled. “Hello, Steve,” she greeted as he stepped aside to let her in. “Any change since yesterday?”

“None,” Steve replied with a shake of his head. “For good or ill.”

“Hmm. I was hoping the herbs would have helped lower her fever by now.”

Steve stayed silent as he watched Helen work. The rhythm of her work wasn’t the same as his mother’s, but it was familiar enough to soothe him, reminding him of his childhood as he watched his mother tend to the sick and injured.

He had other things to be doing, he knew. The house was a mess; he’d been neglecting the cleaning since his mother fell ill three days before, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and do anything. Not even when he knew his mother was in capable hands.

Any hope Helen’s visit might have promised was dashed when she turned to look at Steve. He knew that look of despair all too well, and what it meant.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do for her, other than make her comfortable.”

 _Make her comfortable._ That was the phrase used when there was no hope of recovery. He hated it.

“Is there truly nothing else that can be done?”

“Nothing within our power,” she said with a small shake of her head. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “You’re mother is a good woman, and the best teacher I could have asked for. I wish there were more I could do.”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to look at her, knowing if he did, the tears that were burning his eyes would start falling. “Thank you for trying,” he managed to say. “Payment is on the table.”

“Keep it,” Helen said. “I owe your mother much more than I could ever hope to repay.”

“Thank you, Helen.”

“Take care of yourself, Steve. I know Sarah wouldn’t want you to suffer on her behalf.”

He said nothing, _could_ say nothing, as she walked out of his home. He knew she was right, that his mother would be upset that Steve had cast his life aside completely for the past three days to tend to her. But it was all he knew to do for the woman who single-handedly kept him alive as a child. Who’d tended to every cough and cold, every broken bone and scrape when he couldn’t leave well enough alone and stood up for kids younger than him.

Thinking back to his childhood reminded him of the dream he’d had before Helen arrived. The one about the fabled magical fruit high up on the mountain that could heal any ailment… 

Steve shot up, giving his mother a quick kiss on her heated brow. “I promise to return with a way to make you better, I swear.”

  


  


* * *

  


  


As much as he wanted to leave for the mountain right that second, leaving his mother unattended for too long would be signing her death warrant. So, he went to the one person who he trusted above all others.

Natasha lived on the edge of town, away from all others. She’d moved there a few years ago, and mostly kept to herself. He’d struck up an odd friendship with her though, when she happened on him painting a sign for a local establishment. She asked if he was for hire to help repaint the shed on the back of her property, and their friendship blossomed from there.

He pounded at her door, not stopping until she answered. It may have been rude, especially at the late hour, but he was desperate. 

“Steve, what’s the matter,” she asked as she opened the door. “Is everything okay in the village?”

“My mother,” Steve gasped out, his lungs protesting the run. “I— she—”

“Come in before you catch your death, and take a drink of water,” Natasha insisted, guiding him inside by the shoulder to sit down as she fetched a cup.

He drank as deeply as he could before taking a few deep breaths. “My mother is ill,” he managed to finally get out. 

“Oh, Steve. I’m so sorry to hear that. Is there anything that can be done for her?”

“Nothing Helen can do. But there’s something, though it involves leaving the village.”

Natasha got a sharp look in her eyes. “What _something_ , Steven?” 

Steve winced at the use of his full name. Only Natasha and his mother seemed to use it, everyone else agreed it was far too grand of a name to belong to a wisp of a boy like Steve.

“There’s a fruit, at the mouth of a cave on the top of the mountain at the edge of the village. If I can—”

“Steven, no. Even _if_ you survived the climb, you’ve heard the stories. We all have. There’s a monster up there, guarding it. The men who _have_ come back have come back scarred and disfigured. It would be suicide, Steven.”

“I have to try, Natasha. I couldn’t live with myself if she died and I didn’t do everything in my power to save her.”

“What makes you think this is within your power? No offense, but you can barely hold a sword. Hells, your lungs almost gave out running through the village; the climb alone might kill you.”

She was right. He knew she was, but he refused to give in. So he raised his chin, looked her in the eye, and said, “Please, look after my mother while I try to get the fruit for her.”

Natasha sighed. “I see you still won’t take anyone’s good advice. Fine, I’ll look after your mother for you.”

Before Steve could ask what she meant by _still_ , she started speaking again. “I won’t have you go up there defenseless though. My head would roll if it was ever found out. Follow me.”

She led him out the back of her home to the small shed that he’d repainted all those years ago. “Stay here,” she instructed, before going inside. She quickly reemerged with an ancient looking circular shield. 

“Here,” she handed it to him, smiling that smile that meant she found something amusing that she knew no one else would understand. 

Steve looked at the beat up thing dubiously. “It looks like it hasn’t seen combat in an age.”

“Something like that,” she shrugged. “But it's sturdy, and more lightweight than it looks. You can’t use a sword to save your life, but this will protect you.”

He took it from her, and found that she was right. Though it looked to be made of metal, it was light even in his arms. He tested the feel of it on his arm. “It feels good,” he said, surprised. “You’re sure this will protect me?”

“So long as you don’t toss it away, I promise it will protect you.”

Steve nodded, looking down at the shield again. It was tarnished from years of disuse, but he got the feeling if some attention was paid to it, it would gleam. “Thank you,” he said, adjusting the strap of it on his arm.

“And let me pack you supplies. Something tells me you don’t have what’s necessary to survive up there, and it would be a waste to give you that and send you to your death to the elements before you even reach the top.”

Steve blushed. She was right, in his haste to leave, he forgot that he didn’t even have a bedroll suitable for camping.

They went back inside, and Natasha quickly packed a small satchel with supplies.

“Thank you, truly Natasha.”

She waved him off, packing a bag of her own. “Consider this a debt paid.” 

“Debt?”

“Never you mind that now. Go, the sun will be rising soon, this is the best time to get started if you want to reach the peak before nightfall.”

  


  


* * *

  


  


The midday sun beat steadily down on Steve. He felt his fair skin start to burn, even through the layers of clothing he wore. Sweat dripped down his eyes, and he swiped at his forehead in frustration. 

He thanked the gods that the mountain had a flowing stream of cool water, the one respite in the otherwise torturous climb.

His limbs felt heavier and heavier the higher he climbed, and he felt a tight knot in his chest. But he refused to give up, he couldn’t. Not with what was at stake.

So he forced his weary body to go on, stopping only to consume some dried meat Natasha packed for him.

By the time he reached the top, the sun was beginning to set and twilight overtook the sky. He found a tree limb big enough to make into a torch, and made his way toward the cave. It was smaller than Steve expected, having heard the tales of the giant monster who protected its most prized possession.

He could see the small bush that held the prized fruit, just barely by the light of the torch. There was nothing stopping him from walking up to pluck it, just the scene that lay before him at the entrance. 

Whatever parts the survivors of the trek had embellished, one thing was clearly true. The ground was littered with bones of the fallen who had attempted this task before him.

The sight made fear swell in his heart, but he pushed it aside. He had to succeed, there was no other option.

A sound deep in the cave startled Steve, causing him to jump and reach for the shield that was on his back, raising it to defend himself against whatever lay inside.

As the sound got closer, Steve raised the shield, holding the torch like a weapon. It wouldn’t defend him, but he hoped the light might scare off whatever creature came out, or distract it enough to give him time to bolt for the fruit

But, instead of a creature out of nightmares, a man walked out of the shadows. Possibly the most beautiful man Steve had ever laid eyes on. His skin was so pale it appeared to be glowing in the twilight and his hair was dark and shiny. His face was so perfect it was almost painful to look at. He was clearly dangerous too; the man looked to be at the peak of perfection, muscles appearing to be sculpted by an artist, though one arm was hidden behind the fabric of his cloak.

He eyed Steve’s shield, his gaze lingering on it for a moment before turning his attention to Steve. “Who are you, that dares to disturb me in my home?” the man said, and even his voice was perfect, melodical and hypnotizing.

“I— I,” Steve took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to clear his mind from whatever spell this man had him under. “I’m here on an errand of great importance.”

“An errand of great importance,” he repeated, but he didn’t sound mocking. “Tell me, what is this errand that brings you all the way up here.”

Steve stood firm, refusing to be afraid. “There’s rumor of a magical fruit. I’ve come to claim it.”

Though his face remained impassive, something in his eyes showed disappointment. “For yourself.”

“No. For my mother.”

This finally seemed to catch the man’s attention. “Your mother. You mean you have no desire to claim the fruit for yourself?”

“None. I only wish for my mother to be healed.”

“Then call a healer, they have knowledge of medicines found far easier than this fruit.”

“There’s nothing that can be done for her,” Steve said. “She’s dying.”

“All mortals must die,” the man said, standing firm. 

“Yes, but this is before her time. She has so much more good she can do for our village, so many more lives she can save. I beg of you, please, let me take this fruit to her.”

The man’s face moved for the first time, red lips turning to a frown. “I’m afraid this fruit will not be of help to her. I am the guardian of it, sworn to protect it. It is meant for one man, and one man alone. Only he can claim it for himself.”

The tears, which Steve had refused to acknowledge since his mother took to her sick bed, finally fell. “Is there nothing I can do for her?”

“There might be something, but I cannot promise it will work.”

“I’ll try it, anything, please.”

“Do you have a vial?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t.”

The man nodded. Then, the arm that had been hidden by his cloak moved. Before Steve could stop himself, he gasped. The arm was made not of flesh, but of metal. A metal that appeared to be made up of the very stars themselves. Steve was stunned by the beauty of it, but thankfully the man paid Steve’s rudeness no mind. With the metal hand, he made a quick motion, and suddenly a small vial appeared in his palm.

“Take this and gather the dew that collects there in the morning. Fair warning, if you accept this vial, you must only use the contents of it for your mother and no one else.”

Steve nodded, and forced shaky legs to walk over to the man to take the vial. “I swear, only for my mother. Thank you…,” he trailed off, not knowing what to call the man.

“My name is of no consequence,” the man said. “You may feel free to take shelter in the cave overnight.” The man then turned to walk back into the cave.

“Wait,” Steve said, something deep inside him bereft at the thought of not being near this man. It scared him, this feeling. He’d never felt anything like it, didn’t even have a name for it.

The man stopped, but didn’t turn. He stood there, still as a statue, waiting for Steve to continue. 

“Please, don’t leave. It must be lonely, being here by yourself. You must want for some sort of company.”

It felt like a triumph when the man smiled. “I assure you, I am perfectly fine as I am. But some company would not go amiss, I suppose.” 

“Oh, um… good.” Steve was at a loss. Though he wanted to be in this man’s company, he hadn’t actually expected that to work. Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, which just seemed to amuse the man. “So, what do you do when you aren’t on guard duty?”

The man’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, this can’t be all you do with your day. Do you have any family, friends, things like that?”

“I guard the fruit, that is my only task.”

Steve blinked. “How… how long have you been guarding it?” He had his suspicions, but he refused to entertain them until he knew for certain.

“Since the dawn of the new age.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing Steve could think to say, though he wasn’t sure why he was compelled to say it.

The man turned his eyes on him, eyes that reminded him of the sky before a storm. “I take it on gladly.”

An awkward silence hung in the air, and Steve had no idea how to fill it. Instead, he decided settling in for the night would be a better use of his time. He gathered supplies for a fire, using the torch to kindle the flame. 

The man watched curiously as he lay out his bedroll for the night. He was grateful for the protection of the cave and the warmth of the fire, but the chill of the night air still managed to find him. He clutched tightly at the thin blanket, willing it to warm him. He heard the man walk over to him, stopping just short of the bedroll.

“Are you cold?”

Steve shook his head, too stubborn to admit it. “I’ll be fine, just have to let the fire do its work,” he managed to stutter out.

“Move over,” the man said, in a tone that broched no argument. 

Steve sighed in defeat and scooted over a bit, leaving some room in his bedroll for the man to lay down.

The effect was instant, the second the man’s arm wrapped around him. Steve felt so safe, so protected, so _warm_. Nothing like he’d ever felt before, even in the safety of his mother’s arms as a child. He knew, without knowing _how_ he knew, that this man would protect him.

“Sleep,” the man whispered in his ear, and Steve obeyed.

  


  


* * *

  


  


The rising of the sun caused Steve to stir. He opened his eyes, still expecting the man to be there, but when he turned over, the bedroll was empty. 

He sat up, wondering for a second if the whole was a dream, if the man even existed at all. But, no, the vial sat on top of the shield, a reminder that the encounter with the man was very much real.

The instructions came back to Steve quickly, and he snatched the vial up, scared he was too late and the dew would be gone. But no, he was lucky and the leaves of the bush were sparkling with droplets in the morning sun, Sighing in relief, he gently tipped one of the leaves to the vial, letting the liquid drip inside.

As he held the leaf, a feeling of familiarity came over Steve. There was something pulling at the back of his head, like a memory long lost to time. He shook himself; now was not the time to get lost in flights of fancy. He had what he hoped would save his mother, now he had to get it back to her before it was too late.

Steve had worried the climb down would be almost as grueling as the trek up, but he found himself feeling oddly energized. Even his lungs, which had been protesting in the high altitude the day before, were breathing more freely than they ever had.

He didn’t let himself linger on those thoughts either, just counted his blessings that this would allow him to make the journey down that much quicker.

He made it back in record time, the sun had still yet to set as he made his way back into the village and toward the house he shared with his mother. 

He ignored the looks of shock and confusion that greeted him as he passed. He figured the village must have seen him make for the mountain, and thought him dead.

He opened the door to find Natasha keeping vigil over his mother. “How is she?” It was the first thing out of his mouth. He knew his mother would be appalled by his manners, but he needed to know he wasn’t too late.

“Barely hanging on,” Natasha replied. “Whatever you found, you need to try it now, before it’s too late.”

Steve rushed to take his pack off, and quickly found the vial he’d bundled inside of his bedroll to keep it safe. He popped open the lid and, with Natasha’s help, lifted his mother up to press the vial to her lips.

“Please let this work,” he whispered to himself as he gently opened her mouth and emptied the vial. 

They sat her back down on the pillows and Steve watched, desperate for any sign his journey had not been in vain.

Natasha took his hand in hers. “You did all you could, Steve. Whatever happens, remember that.”

Steve shook his head and closed his eyes, not wanting to cry in front of Natasha. “Not enough.”

“Don’t be so sure, Steven.”

Steve opened his eyes, Natasha’s tone catching him by surprise, when she gestured to his mother.

He looked down, and gaped. Color was returning to her cheek, her breathing was growing deeper and more steady. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sat up, causing Steve and Natasha to have to move back to give her room.

“Steve? Honey, why are you crying?”

All Steve could do was hold his mother tightly, grateful that the man in the cave had been telling the truth. 

“Oh sweetheart, hush now,” Sarah said, kissing Steve on the forehead. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You weren’t. You nearly weren’t,” Steve said, the tears making it hard to speak. “You almost died and I was so scared.”

“Tell me,” Sarah said, laying Steve’s head on her shoulder. “Tell me what happened, my love.”

So Steve did. He told her the whole tale, from waking up to find her in bed, drenched with fever, to his adventure in the cave on top of the mountain.

All the while, she stroked his hair in a way she hadn’t done since he was very small. Though it was a small gesture, it helped calm him. 

“Sounds like a harrowing tale, my love. Why don’t you go take a rest. I’ll be fine.”

“Ma—”

“Steven. Rest.”

Steve smiled despite himself, happy to hear his mother feeling well enough to chastise him like that. “Okay.”

  


  


* * *

  


  


He was standing in a palace, far finer than anything he’d ever seen in his life, but oddly he felt right at home. The breeze was warm and sweet, the sun was golden in the sky, and the flowers were vibrant. It was perfection in every sense of the word.

“Steve,” a deep, melodic voice whispered in his ear. “Come back to bed.”

Steve leaned back, and let the lips that belonged to that voice kiss up and down his neck.

“It’s far too lovely a day to waste in bed,” Steve said, turning around to greet the man with a deep kiss.

“Is that so,” he said as they parted. “Here I thought it was the perfect day to spend _only_ in bed.”

Steve bent down to give the man another kiss, this time a little more fierce, nipping at his pouty red lips. He pulled back to admire the work of art that was Bucky and his kiss bitten lips. “I suppose you have a good point.”

“I always have good ideas, you’re usually too stubborn to listen to reason half the time,” Bucky joked as he pulled Steve, by the hips, back toward their giant bed.

“Stubborn enough to keep you,” he said, nonsensically. It wasn’t his fault Bucky stole all sense from him.

Bucky laughed as he pushed Steve to lay down on the bed before straddling him. He leaned down, dark hair acting as curtain, a barrier between them and the problems of the world outside. “You’ll never lose me,” Bucky promised. “I’ll always wait for you.”

The dream faded as Steve woke up to the enticing smell of stew wafting into his room. Stomach grumbling, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in over a day, he stretched as he stood up and made his way into the kitchen where his mother was serving herself a bowl.

“Should you be out of bed?” Steve asked, worried she could fall ill again by pushing herself too quickly.

“Helen came to check me over and gave me a clean bill of health. She said she’d never seen anything like it; called it a miracle from the gods.”

Steve remained silent as he served himself, unsure of what to say. He’d told his mother everything, but he wasn’t sure if the gods had anything to do with his encounter on top of the mountain.

“Either way,” she continued. “I’m as healthy as I’ve ever been. Even the old ache in my knee is gone.”

Steve glanced up at that, shocked. That knee had bothered her ever since his childhood. “Truly?”

“Truly,” he smiled. 

“I’m just glad you’re better, it’s all I could have asked for.”

“I wonder if that’s true,” she said, almost to herself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Steven, I have to ask you something, and I need you to answer me as truthfully as possible, okay?”

Steve nodded, unsure of where this was going.

“When you were in that cave, did anything feel… different to you?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s time I told you a story. One I’ve been scared to tell you, because once I do, it will change things.”

Steve sat up, his mother had never spoken to him like this before.

“I’m confused.”

“Just listen, and don’t interrupt until I’m done.”

Steve nodded, and his mother took a deep breath before she began her tale.

“When your father and I first got married, we wanted so desperately to have a child. I became pregnant twice, but I lost both of them. Finally, I fell pregnant again, but I was afraid. I didn’t want to lose another child, I don’t think I could have handled it for a third time

“But, one day, I had a dream. A man came to me, with a calming smile and a warm demeanor, and said I was one of his most devout followers.”

Steve gasped, but managed to hold the words he wanted to say back. There was only one god who was worshipped by healers: Samuel.

“He assured me this pregnancy would be successful, and I would bring a son into this world. But he also told me something else. He said my son would be special, different from other children. He would be destined for greatness, but I would have to let him go for that to happen. 

“He told me I would know when that time came, that my son would bring me back from the brink of death. At the time, I was sure that meant you would be a fierce warrior. But then you were born, stubbornness the only thing keeping you clinging to life.

“I didn’t fully understand the god’s words at the time, but now I do.”

She took Steve’s hand in her own. “He told me you would journey up the mountain twice. The second time would be the last, my son would never come home again.”

“Ma,” Steve said, unable to restrain himself any longer. “I would never leave you, you know that.”

“I know you mean that, but it’s time. You have to go, and I think part of you, deep down, wants to.”

He hated it, but she was right. There was something calling to him, but he was willing to ignore it.

“I—”

“Steven. It’s time.”

Steve took a deep breath, and fought the urge to argue with her. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t our final goodbye, I can feel it. Now finish your meal, I believe you have a mountain to climb back up.”

  


  


* * *

  


  


The journey back up the mountain was somehow even harder on Steve’s body the second time. His limbs felt heavy, the tightness in his chest made getting the already thin air into his body feel like a massive struggle. 

There were times Steve was sure he’d keel over and die. He wanted to give up, go back home, live out the rest of his life and forget the man who lived in the cave. 

But he couldn’t. He knew, whatever his fate, it lay with that man. Deep in his soul he knew that.

So he pushed himself on, reaching deep in himself for strength he hadn’t known existed until now. He was gasping for air, barely able to stand on his own two legs, but he kept going. Through sheer force of will, he managed to make it to the mouth of the cave before collapsing into a heap.

The sound of footfalls reached his ear, but he wasn’t able to focus on them, or on anything at all besides the pounding in his chest.

“Steven,” that sweet voice from his dream, _how could he forget that voice_ , said to him. “Stay with me Steven, please.”

Steve opened his mouth to try to soothe the panic coming from the man, but he found himself unable to speak.

“Hold on, please. Don’t leave me, not again,” the voice said as he was picked up and cradled in gentle arms. “Just a little longer, please.”

Steve tried his best to listen to the voice, to not leave… again? He was confused, so confused, but he didn’t want to disappoint this man. 

He wasn’t sure how far he’d been moved, but he was placed on the ground again, propped up against the wall of the cave.

“Here, eat this,” the voice coaxed as something cool and sweet smelling was placed against his lips. “This will make everything better, I promise.”

Unable to deny the voice anything, Steve found the strength to open his mouth and take a bite of the fruit. It was crisp and juicy, the best tasting thing Steve had ever tasted in his life.

“That’s it, you’re doing well,” the man said as he kept feeding pieces of fruit to Steve. “Just a little more, there you go now.” The voice kept encouraging Steve, and he wanted nothing more than to listen. 

As soon as the last piece entered Steve’s mouth, a cool hand came to rest on his cheek. “Rest now. You’ve had a long journey.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered open for a second, only to be met with the most radiant smile he’d ever seen. He gave a small smile of his own before giving in to the exhaustion, closing his eyes, again and drifting off into oblivion. 

His dreams were a mix of color and light and sound; words he couldn’t understand and visions he couldn’t begin to interpret. They flowed through him, happening faster than his mind could process, all he could do was be swept along with the current.

Eventually, things started to become clearer. Memories long forgotten starting drifting back to him. The first time he’d held his beloved shield, the first time he laid eyes on Bucky, their first kiss, the first time they’d lain together.

The war, against Alexander and Red Skull, the sacrifice he’d been forced to make.

The look of horror on Bucky’s face as he’d fallen. The last thing he’d seen with clear eyes.

The same eyes which snapped open. He sat up slowly, glancing around. He’d been placed in a soft bed, candles lit all around on the ground of the cave. As he took everything in, he remembered. 

He was Steven, god of justice, protector of those who could not protect themselves. He’d fallen in defense of humanity, so new and fragile. They’d deserved a chance to try to live, and Steven was determined to make sure that happened.

He’d fallen… and he’d left Bucky all alone. Buchanan, his _Bucky_ , the god of loyalty. He smiled, already realizing what Bucky had done, how he’d guarded the fruit that held Steven’s divinity. The body of a god can be destroyed, but what makes them who they are will always carry on, waiting for it’s rightful owner to return.

His beloved had protected the one part of him that remained until he was reborn and ready to reclaim it.

“You’re awake,” Bucky said as he walked toward him, Steven’s shield in hand. The shield he’d carried into many battles, which had protected him until his last breath. He sat it down, propping it against the foot of the bed before sitting next to him, vibranium fingers combing through Steven’s hair.

Steven grabbed that hand, not remembering this addition to Bucky. He traced the thin, delicate lines of metal, before pressing a gentle kiss on his palm. “What happened?”

“After… after you fell, the battle might have been won, but Alexander’s forces refused to concede defeat. His general, Crossbones, managed to get me with his poisoned dagger before I cut him down.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“No,” Bucky said, cupping Steven’s cheek with his free hand. “You did what you had to do. You saved everyone. And you came back to me.”

“You waited, all this time.”

“Of course I did.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Steven said, leaning in to kiss Bucky. “But I’m glad I have you.”

“You do,” Bucky said, a radiant smile lighting up his face as he pulled away. “I say you do, so you do.”

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Steven said with a smile of his own. 

“That’s rich, coming from you, the most stubborn god in existence.”

The word _god_ caused a small jolt in Steven. A reminder that, not too long ago, he’d been some scrawny boy named Steve. “I… my life in the village.”

“Sarah will be well taken care of, Samuel is very protective of his followers,” Bucky reassured. 

Steve nodded. “I know. But,” he hesitated, looking down at himself. He wasn’t the son she raised anymore, he knew that. No longer was he thin and sickly. She might not even recognize him, which caused the small part that would always be Steve to feel a small pang of guilt. “I need to give her closure, if nothing else.”

To Steven’s relief, Bucky just nodded. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“Please.”

Bucky stood up, holding out his hand to help Steven stand, which Steven took, wanting the contact more than actually needing the help. 

“We’ll need to cloak ourselves, two gods walking into a small village will cause a commotion, and that's the last thing we need,” Bucky said as he handed Steven a cloak, which he donned, knowing Bucky was right. 

He glanced at the shield, smiling as he picked it up. “Thank you for keeping this safe for me.”

“Thank Natasha,” Bucky said. “She felt it was her duty to guard the weapon of a fallen brother.”

“I will,” he said, swinging it around to lay on his back. 

“Ready?”

Steven nodded. “Ready.”

  


  


* * *

  


  


Despite being cloaked, Steven and Bucky still managed to attract some attention. It was to be expected, he supposed, two giant men coming down from a mountain known to be near impossible to climb, it would cause people to wonder.

But they kept firm to their path, Steven leading the way. He had to do this, he owed it to the woman who raised him.

They arrived at the door which Steve had known his whole life, and looked so different with new eyes. With a small, encouraging squeeze from Bucky, Steven gently rapped on the door.

Sarah, the woman he owed everything to, opened the door, greeting him with a tear-stained face. “Steve,” she gasped. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Mother,” he greeted, bending down to give her a hug. “I wanted to see you, one last time.”

“Come in,” Sarah started, but Steven stopped her with a shake of his head. 

“We cannot stay long. I wanted to say thank you, for being the best mother you could, and for raising me.”

“Of course,” Sarah said with a smile. “No matter what, you are my son, and I will always love you.”

Steven smiled. “And I, you.”

Sarah glanced around Steve to look at Bucky. “I know who you are, Buchanan, and I know I don’t need to tell you this, but it is still my duty as his mother. Take care of him.”

“I will,” Bucky nodded solemnly. “I swear it.”

“We have to go,” Steven said. “I love you.”

“And I love you, my son,” she said, giving him one last hug.

Heart lighter, Steven walked away, toward his new life.

_And they lived happily ever after._

**Author's Note:**

> Little fun facts I couldn't find a way to fit into the story: Natasha is the goddess of strategy and war. Also the gods who Steven fights against are Alexander Pierce, the god of deception; and Red Skull, the god of destruction. Oh, and Fury is the king of the gods, because how could I not?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!


End file.
